WARNING!
There is some vomiting in this chapter. I tried not to make it too graphic, but please keep this in mind while reading.
"I don't want you getting involved again."
As she extracts herself from his hold, the look Tifa sends her father is no doubt just as unimpressed as the one she had thrown Tseng. "Dad, I'm not going to sit around playing patty-cake while everybody else is off fighting Jenova."
"But Tifa – "
"No buts," she interjects, hands on her hips, trying to ignore the thought that she would probably be much more intimidating if she was taller… and if her dad wasn't currently kneeling on the floor, one hand out as if to console her. "I'm fighting and that's final."
"Tifa – "
"Dad, I might be stuck in a child-size body right now, but I am a full-grown woman. I know what I'm doing. If Cloud's fighting, then so am I."
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking on the brink of giving in. "Cloud… You said he saved you from Sephiroth?"
"He saved me so many times, Dad." She's definitely not telling him about the time with Don Corneo, though… "But, yeah, the first time was from Sephiroth. I might not have thought things through and ended up charging the man after he killed you." Her father shudders at her words – Tifa figures the idea of being once-dead resurrected and of her nearly dying herself because of her grief must be equally unnerving. She definitely still has a hard time reconciling her past with her present, the sight of her alive-again father sometimes so overwhelming that she's sure she'll throw up. Gesturing vaguely to the lab equipment back the way they came, she elaborates, "Master Zangan got me out, but Cloud spent years being tortured by Hojo for finishing what I started and taking Sephiroth out."
Her father stumbles, falling backwards onto his butt with a soft "oh…". Burying his head into his hands, he sits that way for what feels like forever, not making a sound, before coming to a decision. "I really owe him an apology, don't I?" He confesses, face still half-hidden behind his hands.
Tifa half-giggles, half-snorts. "Yeah, probably."
"What I don't really understand, though…" Her father drops his hands into his lap, his eyes now free to look at her properly. "How did you end up fighting alongside Cloud later? You said Sephiroth assassinated the President, but I can't imagine they would have publicized that with what you said they did to Nibelheim."
Coughing awkwardly into a fist in a near perfect imitation of Rude, she racks her brain for the best way to describe what happened without giving away too much. "We happened to be in the Tower at the same time trying to save a friend from Hojo."
Even sprawled on the floor as he is, Tifa finds his raised eyebrow just as fidget-inducing as if he had been standing over her. "Just what are you hiding from me, young lady?"
"Well…" She throws a look Barret's way, but he just shrugs unhelpfully – guess she's on her own. "We… may have been considered terrorists."
"Terrorists?"
She sucks in a breath through her teeth – this is what she was trying to avoid. "We might have blown up a mako reactor or two."
Instead of ranting and raving like she half-expected, her father just groans as he buries his face in his hands again. "I don't even know my own daughter anymore."
Sephiroth can tell that things did not go well with Cloud when Zack returns to the conference room. The teen's slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes were evidence enough. That doesn't stop Angeal – though maybe he's acting more in a mentor-capacity than missing the telltale signs of the teen's grief. "How did things go?"
"Well, he promised not to go anywhere, but he doesn't believe us." Zack sniffs. "Doesn't believe me."
"Did you find out what he meant by Midgar not being different than Nibelheim?"
A pained look flashes across Zack's face as he sighs. "He never had any friends in Nibelheim. Said he was used to them tricking him into believing they wanted to be his friends only for it to be a cruel prank." Slamming a fist down on the table, he growls. "Apparently, Johnson did the same thing, too."
The more he hears about this kid, the more Sephiroth wants to skewer him. But that wasn't important right now – Cloud takes precedence. "And he believes we're doing the same thing? That this is all some big prank?"
"Yeah…"
"Remind me," Genesis drawls, an almost uninterested look on his face if not for the dangerous glint in his eyes. "Why aren't we burning Nibelheim to the ground again?"
"Genesis."
Cutting off Angeal's half-hearted attempt at being the voice of reason, Zack grumbles, "Or killing Johnson?"
"Cause we're better than that."
"Yeah, yeah," Zack waves a hand dismissively and slumps onto the tabletop. "SOLDIER honor and all that…"
Before Angeal can lecture his former student over his bad manners, Sephiroth turns his attention to Rufus. "Mr. President, this is what we were trying to avoid." That's as close as he'll get right now to outright accusing the man of being short-sighted.
Rufus leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit Sephiroth never would have attributed to the President. "I'll admit that was not the reaction I was expecting." Sephiroth feels that's as close as Rufus would get to an outright apology. "All we can hope for now is that it will help jog his memory."
"'Bout time we made our escape, too."
Even if Barret was being far more prudent than he was used to, Cloud finds he can't agree with the man more. They had been in the Shinra Building for too long already. They could kiss their success and Aerith's freedom goodbye if they lingered any longer. And nobody deserved Hojo's undivided attention less than Aerith, especially with his plans to breed her like some lab rat.
As their ride descends towards them, Cloud can't rid himself of his sense of foreboding – after everything that had happened that week and even that day, it just felt much too good to be true. And before he can think that maybe their bad luck was a thing of the past, before their rescue can make it even halfway to the helipad, it goes up in a ball of flame and smoke, no warning given to prepare themselves for the missile that took it out – as if its destruction was conjured by Cloud's grim thoughts.
"Shit." The sight of the Shinra-marked helicopter waiting in the shadows as the Avalanche one spirals out of control, 70 floors down to the ground, has Cloud moving before he even realizes it. They do not want to hang around for that. Especially if it was those Turks again – he had had enough of those assholes to last him a lifetime. Besides, he could practically feel Aerith's dread, though she remained quiet, most likely trying not to get her hopes up for a Shinra (and Hojo)-free existence. But Cloud wasn't having any of that – he had meant it when he promised her mother they would get her out of there.
They're halfway to the door leading to the President's office when the sound of feet hitting the helipad far sooner than he was prepared for has him turning around, Barret coming to a stop behind him. "If it ain't Rufus Shinra. Heir to the throne himself."
"Yep."
The heir in question jumps boldly from the helicopter, the man the picture of overconfident arrogance as he signals for the helicopter to resume its aerial patrol, leaving him with only a few infantrymen and a guard dog as protection. The man's all-white ensemble flutters around him and Cloud nearly snorts at the image – what was he wearing, a dress? He sobers quickly, though. It was no time for jokes and he had no room to talk, his traitorous mind reminding him that he had worn a real dress himself – corset, makeup, and all – not too long ago.
He shouldn't have been surprised that Barret would try to rush them – the man never was one for the subtle approach – but it still takes him a second longer than he cares to admit to notice his companion's advance. "Stop." He orders, too late to throw out an arm to restrain the easily agitated man.
"Huh?" Barret spins around, not pleased with the demand at all, too aggravated to remember it generally wasn't a good idea to turn your back to an enemy. "The hell I will! We can finish off the family here and now!"
They could – between the four of them and Red, it wouldn't be hard to do. But they had no idea where that helicopter had disappeared to and they were running out of time. Laughably fast. With the alarms blaring, Heidegger was undoubtedly rounding up every last trooper in and around the building. They couldn't afford to let Aerith fall into Shinra custody again. They all had intimate knowledge of just what their hospitality was like. "Take Aerith and get outta here. I'll buy you guys some time."
"I could stay here – back you up."
Granted, the extra help would be nice – going from the insignia on their uniforms, the infantrymen were the best of the best, and the large, bluish-purple canine looks to be a nasty threat, no doubt enhanced with that glow to its red eyes, its head tentacle vibrating dangerously behind it. But Aerith takes top priority – she needs all the protection she can get. Besides, Cloud wasn't a former 1st Class SOLDIER for nothing. He could handle a handful of infantrymen and some stuck-up, rich kid. "Barret… I'm asking you. Please."
The larger man frowns and scratches the back of his head, irritated, but he doesn't argue with him. Not anymore. "Fine. Have it your way then. But you better be right behind us."
As his friends run off, he charges at the approaching troopers, leaping high into the air and bringing his sword down hard on the helipad, sending a blast of energy his enemies' way. While the infantrymen try to recover from that simple attack – perhaps they weren't the best after all – he swings his sword out to the side. They would have to go through him first if they wanted to get past.
Sauntering forward, loyal pet at his heels, Rufus places himself in front of his protection, not daunted in the slightest by Cloud's show of strength – Cloud's not sure whether the man was confident or just plain stupid. "You're a SOLDIER, aren't you?" Cloud doesn't respond, but that doesn't stop the golden heir, the man smirking as he looks at Cloud like just another tool to use and abuse. "Which, of course, would mean that I own you."
Cloud scoffs – what a prick. Apparently, the rumors of a manipulative, pompous ass were right on the money. "Ex-SOLDIER. I quit."
.
.
.
We're friends… right?
Cloud curses his absolutely useless body as it drags pitifully behind him, Cloud barely able to do so much as crawl his way around the boulder he had been propped against. He needs to find Zack, and fast. The shouting, cursing, and shooting had all stopped, the only sound left that of the rain. The rain that hits him, hits his heart, like a thousand needles as the seconds tick by with no sign nor sound of Zack – he can almost imagine the man making a Cactuar joke at that thought and that just pushes him faster. They say it only pours when something bad has happened, and he really hopes that doesn't apply here.
Zack had promised that he wouldn't leave Cloud behind, so that must mean that something had happened, right? He trusts Zack – with every fiber of his being – so his friend must need his help, right? Ignoring the dark little voices whispering that he would never be good enough to help Zack, that he was already too late, that he was too slow, Cloud summons whatever strength he has left in him to drag himself along the cold, wet rock.
Pushing himself up on weak-feeling arms, his heart nearly stops at the sight of the dark figure lying prone at the cliff's edge. No, please no. Please just let him being resting. Please don't let Cloud be too late. He should have moved sooner. Should have forced through the haze binding him quicker – even if he couldn't move properly, he still could have done something, right? He could have told Zack to run, to leave him behind. But he didn't. Couldn't. He was always too weak.
When he finally manages to pull his sorry carcass over to Zack, the sight he finds is not reassuring – the man's sweater is practically shredded from bullet holes and there's blood everywhere. "Z-Zack…" Cloud's not sure if he's crying or if it's just the rain running down his face. But if he's not crying, he definitely wants to. Zack looks absolutely terrible.
Why did this keep happening to them? They had made it so far… Zack had made it so far, dragging Cloud's worthless body with him. And this is what happens? This is the reward he gets? Bleeding out right outside Midgar? Why couldn't it be Cloud instead? Gaia knows he hadn't done anything. Why couldn't he be useful for once?
As if realizing he's no longer alone, Zack jerks and grunts in pain, but then a small smile lightens his face when his eyes land on Cloud. Cloud doesn't deserve it, though, doesn't deserve the warmth in the other's eyes – this was all his fault. "For the… both of us…"
"Both… of us?"
"That's right…" Zack's breath catches in his throat, the effort of talking clearly very difficult for him. Cloud should tell him to stop, should beg him to save his energy – there must be something they could do to heal him – but he can't. He can't stop himself from clinging to every word, as if they were a lifeline keeping him alive, rather than killing Zack. "You're gonna…"
Cloud waits, but when his friend doesn't continue, he presses. "You're gonna…" He can't help himself, he has to know – Zack's words mean everything to him.
Breath stuttering, Zack brings a hand up and pulls Cloud down. "Live." The hand on his head curls further around him, holding him closer, and Cloud tries to sear the feeling into his soul. He doesn't want to forget this. "You'll be…" – a shaky breath – "my living legacy."
Zack lets out a small gasp, the hand holding Cloud slipping away slowly, falling back to the ground with a splash. He must be in pain, must be – there's blood everywhere. Cloud wants to cry, to beg him not to leave him, but his eyes are riveted to the man's face, the look on which is so tender, so loving, that it almost hurts to see. He barely even notices the blood – Zack's blood – staining his face, his hair.
"My honor… my dreams…" There's a soft scrapping noise as Zack holds his sword out to him – how did he even have the strength to lift it? "They're yours now."
"I'm… your living… legacy." What was that even supposed to mean? He wants to ask, hopes that Zack will explain, but the man just smiles as closes his eyes.
And doesn't open them again.
He cries, screams to the sky, visions of his friend flashing before him as the words no, please no bounce around in his chest, shredding his soul to pieces. This wasn't fair. Take him instead, please. He wasn't good for anything else. Let him save somebody for once.
Cloud's not sure how long he stays like that, crying to the sky, wishing that Zack had just left him behind to rot and saved himself instead. But when he comes to, when he builds up the resolve to look at his friend again – his dead friend – the rain has stopped, the sky bright and sunny so unlike the dark, grief-filled abyss that is his chest. "Thank you." – I'm sorry – "I won't forget." – Please come back.
He nearly cries again as he wishes Zack a good night – the words goodbye far too painful – and starts his long, stumbling trek to Midgar's walls. When he finally makes it to the gates of the city, it's dark out, nobody noticing as he not-so-silently staggers through, sword scraping behind him. He can almost see white wings behind his eyelids when he blinks and he swears it means something to him, his heart clenching painfully in his chest.
Hey… would you say I became a hero?
"Yeah, Zack. You became a hero," he mumbles to himself as he collapses clumsily to the ground near the train station. "You always were my hero…"
It's not until he starts to drift off that he realizes what's so wrong with what he had said. Who's Zack? He doesn't know a Zack… And who was he, for that matter?
Oh… Right. Former SOLDIER 1st Class Cloud Strife.
.
.
.
"I'm your living legacy."
Cloud feels his strength – and resolve – return to him at the thought of his long-dead and dearly-missed friend. Zack wouldn't give up. He never gave up. Cloud can't let his sacrifice go to waste, not when everything depended on him. He won't let Sephiroth have his way. It wasn't over yet.
He can almost imagine the smile splitting Zack's face as he jumps to meet Sephiroth – the same smile that Zack had died with. "I pity you. You just don't get it at all. There's not a thing I don't cherish!" Sephiroth chuckles, a small, condescending thing – and, oh, how Cloud's going to love wiping that smirk off his face.
As their swords clash, that annoyingly smug look remains plastered across the demon's face, Sephiroth no doubt believing that he would win. If he had wanted to win, he should have stabbed Cloud through the heart when he had the chance. But, no. Evil reborn had toyed with him instead – too bad he didn't have a real mother, she could have told him not to play with his food.
When Cloud finally unleashes his Limit Break, a look of pure shock crosses over Sephiroth's face at the sight of Tsurugi breaking into six pieces, surrounding him, Cloud disappearing in a flash of blue-purple. Only the gasps and groans of Shinra's former poster-boy and the shing of metal fill the air as Cloud attacks over and over and over again. And with one final blow – and a loud hya – Cloud ends it, a shockwave of gold light erupting as he lands his hit and drops back down to the roof of the ruined Shinra Building, his swords falling with him. "Stay where you belong. In my memories."
The dark clouds finally lift, sun shining through once more, as the one-winged angel of death makes one final vow. "I will never be a memory."
.
.
.
I'll be going now. I'll come back when it's all over.
Dead.
Aerith is dead.
So close. He had been so close. Fighting off the sinister force that pulled at his body like he was a marionette with strings, drowning out the raspy voice commanding him to kill the Ancient had been difficult. Extremely difficult. But he had managed. Yes, it took the horrified voices of his friends to break him out of his trance, but he had stopped. Hadn't cut Aerith in two with the Buster Sword.
He had thought that he would finally have the chance to apologize. To beg forgiveness for whatever sick stunt he had pulled at the Temple of Ancients. But he couldn't. Couldn't find the words when he found Aerith kneeling at the altar, still alive. And then she had smiled at him and nothing else mattered. Sephiroth wasn't there and Aerith was safe.
But Cloud was wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong. Sephiroth was there. Was always there. And all Cloud could do was watch in sickening slow motion as evil personified descended like an angel of death from the rafters, Masamune sinking deep into Aerith's chest.
Cloud caught her as she fell, wouldn't let her hit the cold stone of the altar. But she was already gone, her last smile already faded from her lips. What does he do now? How does he live now? Aerith would no longer laugh with them, yell at him, and he just feels so hollow inside.
He yells at Sephiroth. He doesn't recognize the words coming out of his mouth, but it distracts him from his grief, as does the fight afterwards. But his respite doesn't last. Sephiroth's parting words – Because, you are… a puppet – aren't even enough to keep the pain at bay. Aren't enough to keep the ash from rising in his throat, choking him.
The urge to cry is overwhelming, but what right does he have to cry? This was all his fault – he had chased her off and wasn't even good enough to save her. He should have been faster, stronger, … better. If he had, then maybe she would still be alive. Would still be smiling at him.
Instead, Yuffie cries for him, the teen clinging to him as she bawls desperately. He tries to push her away, to tell her that he'll just get her killed, too, but his arms hang limply at his sides, his throat much too dry to form any real words. Tifa would know what to do, would know how to help, but she had run back up the stairs and out the door of the conch-house, her grief too much for her.
It seems like forever before Red's howling has subsided, before Barret has pulled Yuffie from Cloud with a gentle, "Come on, kiddo." The last one left, Cloud cradles Aerith's lifeless body to his chest and follows his companions out of the conch, his lost friend's – love's? – body growing colder and colder with every step.
The glow of the white trees outside is unbearably bright as he lays her to rest, Aerith's ice-like body sinking to the bottom of the lake as Cloud finally, finally breaks into tears.
.
.
.
The prick of the needle is nothing. Nothing compared to the white-hot fire burning through his veins, his writhing doing nothing to distance himself from the pain. The restraints were good – too good – the vice-like grip keeping him plastered to the examination table. It hasn't been more than a minute, but Cloud thinks his voice has given out on him already, his throat rubbed raw from screaming as the doctor mocks him, his taunting words startling clear. "Why did you go after my greatest creation if you can't even handle a little mako?"
"Please, Professor!" Cloud tries to peel open the eyes he had squeezed shut when the first wave of pain hit as the sound of rattling cage bars grows louder. He's not entirely sure if he's successful – all he can see is green, but he knows the blinding white of the fluorescent lighting should be above him. "Take me instead! I promise I'll be better this time!"
Cloud wants to stop Zack, wants to convince his friend that he can handle the pain – he doesn't want Zack getting hurt because of him – but all that comes out is a pathetic croaking whine. Nobody seems to hear him anymore, though, the monstrous doctor admonishing Zack this time. "I have no use for a failed experiment, Subject Z." He can just make out deranged cackling as the pain becomes too much for him, foam rising in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. "Just sit back and enjoy the show!"
.
.
.
A particularly harsh jolt sends Cloud tumbling from his bed and crashing to the hard, unforgiving floor. Spluttering, Cloud heaves down breath after desperate breath, the phantom burn of mako still tearing through his body. "That bastard…" It wasn't the first time that he had dreamt of his time in the labs, but it was definitely one of the most vivid.
And what about these dreams of Zack? He misses his friend dearly, but going back in time to his days at Shinra and befriending the man – boy? – earlier? He chuckles a little wryly, that was definitely a new one. It wasn't even the anniversary of his death, either. But, whatever, he can reminisce later. Right now, he needs to get ready. He had promised Denzel they would start his training today. He had meant it when he said he wanted to be a better father figure for the boy, he can't go breaking promises now just because he would rather dream about ghosts.
Pushing himself from the surprisingly cold floor, he's only had time to think what a strange dream it was – his mind was a serious kind of messed up for thinking he wanted to be anywhere near Sephiroth, much less as his student – when the heat drains rapidly and efficiently from every corner of his body at the sight in front of him. This isn't his room in Edge.
Oh Gaia.
No, no, no, runs through his head like some wild mantra as he barrels out of the room and down the hallway. Dread is already roiling uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach as he yanks the bathroom door open – this was most definitely Shinra Tower – and he throws himself at the nearest mirror, the sight of baby fat staring back at him doing nothing for the emotions threatening to consume him.
It wasn't a dream.
Hands shaking uncontrollably from where they clasp the edge of the sink, he tries to rack his brain for something – anything – that would explain what's going on. Was somebody out to get him? Somebody was always out to get him.
You can have the leftovers when I'm finished!
A wave of nausea crashes into him at the thought of the bully and he barely has time to stumble his way to the nearest stall before he's on his knees, his stomach emptying itself in the toilet. Well, there goes his breakfast. What feels like an eternity passes before the urge to throw up subsides, or perhaps his stomach just realizes there's nothing left. Feeling positively wasted, he sags against the toilet, breathing unfortunately ragged and throat burning from bile. He's not proud to admit that what Johnson and his friends did still rocks him to his core, even with his memories back, but he guesses (near) gang-rape was a reasonable thing to be traumatized about. Thank Gaia for Vincent.
I'm glad you're safe.
Sephiroth's voice is enough to set him off again and he finds himself hunched over the toilet bowl once more, the sound of his dry heaving echoing unsettlingly around the empty bathroom. Tears stream down his cheeks reflexively as his body rejects the memory of his former nemesis wrapped tightly around him, the once comforting thought of warm hands holding him now burns him alive, the blackened remains of Nibelheim smoldering behind his eyelids.
When his heaving finally stops, Cloud collapses to the floor – energy completely drained – and curls into a ball, the cold of the tile pressed to his cheek providing a nice distraction to the fire in his veins. Is this what everybody meant when they asked if he remembered? Can he get a refund? This isn't what he wants. If remembering means that his body will always be at war with itself when it comes to Sephiroth, then he doesn't want to remember. It would be one thing if only the hate was left, but it wasn't. It didn't erase the past two months, didn't rid him of the small touches, the words of encouragement, … the admiration.
Groaning, he twists further in on himself, slapping his hands over his ears. He knows it won't actually help, but at least it makes him feel better. He really needs to stop thinking about Sephiroth. He can't handle that right now or he'll just end up over the toilet again.
Think happy thoughts.
He tries to listen, he really does, but he nearly cries at the young girl's voice ringing through his head. He'll never see Marlene again. Or Denzel. Not really. Not in any meaningful way. And that hurts more than the thought of having to deal with Sephiroth again. No wonder Barret looked so sad.
So, what then? Everybody went back in time, but still remembers? Even Sephiroth? What the absolute heck. He's sure this has to do with Jenova – it always has to do with Jenova – but why does Sephiroth remember? Why did nobody ask him? He so did not sign up for this.
You are the only one capable of stopping me.
Oh, he'll stop him alright. A sharp blade to the heart should do the trick, maybe a quick twist just to be sure. No. Wait… That won't actually work. He had first-hand experience to be certain of it. So, what does he do then? Continue his training with the man? That won't exactly make him any less tempted to stab his living nightmare.
Stop me from losing myself.
He feels his eye twitch as he levels the base of the toilet with the best disgruntled look he can manage – it's the best stand-in he has for Sephiroth right now. Was he honestly supposed to believe that the man was sane now? And repentant? The (idiotic) fanboy side of him tries to remind him that Sephiroth had searched all day for him, but finally shuts up when Cloud points out that the man wouldn't be able to torment him if he was still missing.
Zack believes him, though. Cloud's not sure which part of him brings that frustratingly valid point up, but he curses it anyway. He had been trying to avoid thinking about Zack – it was his fault that his friend had died. If he had just been stronger, hadn't succumbed to mako poisoning, then Zack might still be alive. Except he is alive now… And remembers everything, if their fight from earlier was anything to go off of. Gaia, he really needs to apologize. For everything. For not believing his friend… and for getting him killed.
He knows he should just cut all ties with the teen. Should cut all ties with Aerith, too. Tell them how sorry he is for not being good enough and then distance himself from them forever. But… he can't. Watching them die the first time was painful enough – he doesn't think he could do it a second time. And it would kill him for sure if he was the reason for their deaths… again. But he doesn't want to let them go either. All he wants to do is hug them tight and never let go. To protect them with his body like they had done for him all those years ago. He'd fight a million Jenovas if it just meant that Aerith and Zack would be safe.
Besides, he's pretty sure they wouldn't let him run away again, figuratively or literally. They had already proven the insane lengths they were willing to go to to find him. No doubt they would just tell him he was being stupid – they clearly forgave Sephiroth, so why wouldn't they forgive him, too? – and insist that they actually wanted him there.
I already told Zack that I'm interested in you joining us.
Cloud chokes on his spit and jerks so hard that he ends up lying on his back, staring up at the too-high ceiling. Had they really propositioned him? And he had said no? What was he thinking?
Uhh… silver hair, actually.
Remembering exactly why he had said no, his hands come up to grasp weakly at his throat as his breathing stops. The memories of the other day replay themselves mercilessly behind his horrified eyes, Cloud still able to feel every touch, every caress, every tingle that had gone down his spine. The relief in the General's eyes, in his voice, wraps painfully around his heart, the words I'm glad you're safe ringing violently through his head. And the once comforting rumble of laughter now quakes within him, threatening to tear him asunder.
Before he realizes it, Nibelheim is burning once more, his mother's lifeless body engulfed while he watches helplessly from the sidelines, eyes stinging from the smoke surrounding him, suffocating him. As his vision turns black, his consciousness failing him, he can almost hear Sephiroth warning him not to test his luck, the sharp, excruciating sting of Masamune sliding through his ribcage more than enough to drive his point home (literally and figuratively).
Breathe, Cloud. Everything will be ok.
Not for the first time, Tifa's voice acts as the anchor he needs to pull himself back to reality enough to realize that the tingling to his lips and the black splotches around his eyes are because he's still not breathing, rather than some unfortunate side-effect of smoke inhalation. Listening attentively to the memory of her guiding him out of his panic attack – Breathe in, count to 10, release – he comes back to himself slowly, his hands falling from his neck with a light thunk, body far more worn out than when he had lost his breakfast twice.
What was he thinking? He has a crush on Sephiroth? Him? Really? He cannot be serious.
A loud rumbling in the hallway is almost enough to distract him from his fun on the floor, but he's only lifted his head up the barest of inches before he changes his mind. Sighing exhausted, he lies back down, curling in on himself again. "Nope. Not my problem." Somebody else can handle things for once – stick a fork in him, he's done.
Running a weary hand down his face, he tries to figure out just what the hell has happened (as if he hadn't been doing that before… more or less successfully). So, what, they're in the past again and everybody remembers? Well, everybody important that is. Tifa, Zack, and Aerith definitely remember. And Sephiroth and his friends. Vincent, the Turks, and Rufus. Nanaki, Barret, and Cid. Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge – a tear slides down his cheek at the thought of those three lovable goons alive again. Then what? Everybody just decided to band together and save the planet? Just what had been going on while his memories evaded him?
Groaning frustrated, he finally manages to convince himself that no good will come from lying on the (probably filthy) bathroom floor. He won't be solving any of his problems this way – though he is half tempted to find out if hiding in a cadet bathroom stall is enough to keep Sephiroth at bay. …Probably not. Chuckling wryly at the mental image that that thought provides, he somewhat sluggishly pushes himself to a seated position.
As he catches the breath that that rather simple task cost him, he decides that he should probably find everybody first – as much as he really doesn't want to. He needs to figure out why everybody remembers, what the heck is going on, what his role in all of this bullshit is, and why he has to be fun-sized... It seriously isn't fair – Zack has to be a teenager again, but at least he gets to be tall.
Still grumbling about the unjustness of it all, he ever so slowly makes it back to now-trembling legs. Far more unsteadily than when he had first entered the stall, he staggers his way to the sink, wincing at the sight of himself in the mirror. Gaia, he looks like a real mess. Better get to work.
The leftover bile hasn't caked itself on yet, so it comes up easily (and disgustingly) enough, Cloud rinsing his mouth out for good measure. He's just patting his face dry, when the bathroom door slams open behind him. Spinning around, Cloud comes face-to-face with a cadet who looks just about as green as Cloud felt not so long ago. The cadet, for his part, freezes at the sight of Cloud, one hand held precariously in front of his face. All it takes is a jerk of Cloud's head towards the stalls for the momentary trance to break, the cadet locking himself in the same stall Cloud had used, his helmet and rifle clattering to the floor forgotten.
Cloud tries not to pull a face at the sounds coming from the stall, he really does, but it's so much worse on the other side. Though, he guesses he was much more focused on the disgusting feel of it all when he was the one bent over the toilet.
When the cadet finally finishes his business and stumbles weakly to the sink next to him, he throws a weary look Cloud's way. "You too, Strife?" Cloud's confusion must say it all, cause the cadet's exhausted face turns to a much more incredulous one. "Haven't you heard?"
"Heard what?"
The cadet starts to turn a worrying shade of green again as he answers, eyes terrified. "We're under attack!"
A/N:
- I'm not sure whether I made things better or worse, but Cloud remembers now! Who's ready for BAMF Cloud? I know I am.
- The out-of-order dream sequence was done on purpose. I wanted Rufus to come first and Hojo to come last, and then I just liked the idea of everything being all jumbled.
